


The Cold Within

by pherryt



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [12]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Candlelight, Christmas Decorating, Cozy, Cuddling, Dancing, Decorating, Flash Bingo, Fluff, Found Family, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Memories, Oblivious, Sharing Clothes, Tiny bit of Angst, Undercover, bed sharing, bruce is so done, bucky's cold, clint's icy toes, little surprises, popcorn and cranberry garland, sam is just trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Bucky doesn't get it, he just can't getwarmand looking at Clint's choice of wardrobe is making him shiver even more.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450903
Comments: 91
Kudos: 179
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Winterhawk Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing for the Bucky Bingo Holiday Flash bingo card (which hold 5 prompts on it) - i intend to see if i can get all five of them into this story as a cohesive whole. wish me luck
> 
> First Flash Bingo Square: Cozy  
> Using a fluff generator, i got Clothes Sharing.  
> Winterhawk Bingo - Oblivious

The tower was cold.

You’d think it would be warmer, what with it being owned by a billionaire and all. He had the money to spare, but Bucky was always so damn _cold._

_Maybe it’s mental,_ he thought despairingly, even as he layered up. Currently, he was wearing two pairs of socks, purple fuzzy slippers Clint gave him as a joke, thermal underwear, jeans, a tshirt, long sleeved shirt _and_ a hoody, and he still felt _cold._

Nobody else seemed bothered by it, not even Steve. Maybe he was sick? But no, even with the bastardized version of the serum, Bucky didn’t get sick.

Bucky shuffled into the kitchen – leaving his nest of blankets had been an absolute wrench, but the lure of something hot and soothing to eat had been too much when JARVIS had announced Bruce was making dinner that night for the team.

He met Clint on his way there -

Whose attire made Bucky even colder just looking at him - loose sweatpants, a t-shirt, knitted hat and knitted fingerless mittens but no hoody, not even goddamned socks. On uncarpeted floor. _What even_ …

Bucky shivered.

“What’s up, Buck?” Clint asked.

“Aren’t you cold?” Bucky asked.

“Nope,” Clint said, drawing out the word obnoxiously. “Why, are you?”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head at Clint and spread his hands. “Look at me. What do _you_ think?”

Clint stopped, peering at him critically. “I think… something’s missing from that ensemble. Here.” Clint whipped his hat off his head and pulled it down over Bucky’s, carefully tucking the hairs by Bucky’s face back so they wouldn’t be annoying.

Bucky flushed and stammered. “No, Clint, you don’t have to give me your hat. You were wearing it for a reason – “

“Yeah, the aesthetic. It’s… comfy. But like I said, I’m not really cold. I actually run pretty warm.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “So don’t worry about it. C’mon, I hear Bruce is making chili.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, Bucky followed Clint into the common area. Strangely enough, just the addition of the small, purple knitted hat, did make a significant difference. He was feeling a little warmer already.

And Bruce’s chili took care of the rest.

*

The hat made its way into his wardrobe without Bucky even thinking about it. The idea of giving it back had never even crossed his mind, and he couldn’t really say why. But Clint seemed to have no shortage of hats, so it was obvious he wouldn’t miss this one.

At least, that’s what his reasoning was.

Some days were definitely colder than others, days that even the lure of warm food or drink couldn’t drag Bucky out of his bed. Those days happened more often then he’d liked, only forcing himself out of his blankets when he had to, then racing back to them as soon as possible.

Therapy was a must, training sessions too, even if he wasn’t technically cleared yet for missions. Outings with Steve or the punk would stand at the foot of Bucky’s bed with his arms on his hips and giving Bucky the sad, kicked puppy look. Everyone else left him alone.

Except Clint who would sometimes appear and drag Bucky down to a bookstore (heaven!) with a coffee shop attached.

This time, it was team movie night.

It had been snowing for two days and Bucky wasn’t particularly in the mood but he knew Steve would be sad if he didn’t show up, so he made his way down to the common area once more. He made himself a hot, spiced apple cider and curled himself up on one side of the couch with the mug cradled in his hands. The chill was bone deep, today and Bucky had to work to keep the shiver from spilling his mug.

As usual, everyone else looked warm enough in their various states of dress, and Bucky couldn’t help the stab of jealousy at that. Some days, he didn’t think he’d ever feel warm again.

A blanket was suddenly wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders and he startled, a splash of cider hitting his hand and causing him to hiss. Looking up, he caught Clint looking at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, climbing over the back of the couch and dropping into it, tucking his feet under his legs. “Still cold?”

Bucky shrugged. “A little. How about you?” he asked, noticing that Clint’s concession to the recent weather had been to toss a hoody on over his t-shirt which, honestly, big improvement. Bucky didn’t feel quite as horrified looking at Clint’s under dressed state as normal.

Even if he still wasn’t wearing socks.

The lights went off and the movie started and Bucky got lost in it, though the cider – and it’s warmth- was gone too quick. Then the couch shifted and wiggled and something cold shoved it’s way under Bucky’s thigh and he yelped, turning to glare at Clint when Clint giggled.

“Jesus, I thought you didn’t get cold?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I run warm. And I didn’t say I wasn’t cold _today_ ,” Clint said.

“Then why aren’t you wearing some goddamn socks?” Bucky grumbled as he pulled Clint’s feet out from under him and started rubbing at the cold toes. The action served to not only warm up Clint’s feet, but Bucky’s hands… and his body, as he may now have been blushing and so was now thankful that it was too dark for any of them to see.

This soon became a thing, the two of them sharing the couch during movie nights, sharing the blanket and the body heat. Clint was right, even when he was cold, he ran warm and it seeped into Bucky’s bones.

But his _toes._ No matter how warm Clint was, his toes were always freaking cold. Clint seemed to be averse to wearing socks of _any_ kind, which Bucky didn’t understand.

So if he showed up to the next movie night with an extra pair of socks in hand – as ridiculous as he could find, in a (probably) transparent bid to Clint’s sense of humor _and_ sense of fashion – it was just to keep Clint from shoving his cold toes under Bucky’s thighs and making _him_ colder. Not because the idea of _anyone_ being cold was bothering him.

Clint gaped at Bucky before grinning and sliding them on, wiggling his toes. “Geez, these are so soft! Thanks Buck!”

Bucky blushed and ducked his head, thankful when the lights went out and the movie started. Clint, despite the socks, still cuddled close and Bucky felt so warm. Clint’s obviously delight in the softness of the socks and by Bucky thinking of him, was making Bucky’s heart swell.

After that, it became like a game between them – Clint finding knitted hats he thought suited Bucky and Bucky finding socks for Clint, the more ridiculous the better. They shared coffees in the morning and ciders and hot chocolates during the afternoons and evenings. They shared couches and blankets and the longer they spent together, the easier Bucky found to warm up.

He was still cold, but the worst days were further between then they’d been. He wasn’t sure what that said, except that maybe it _was_ mental.

But Bucky didn’t want to look at that any closer. He was content enough to share space with Clint, but the day they fell asleep during movie night, wrapped around each other on the couch under several blankets, nice and warm and cozy as hell, was the day that Bucky finally realized –

He had feelings for Clint.

Fuck.

Now what?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's playing backup for Clint's current mission - but nobody counted on the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo Card 5 - Hot Chocolate  
> Winterhawk Bingo - Undercover  
> Random Fluff Generator - Snowed in

The last thing Bucky wanted to do in the middle of the goddamned winter was to go on a mission that required him to go out and about in any snow laden regions.

But… Clint had a mission. In just such an area. An undercover one, to boot, for which he required backup. The problem with _that_ , though, was that he not only preferred to work alone, but often did so because he did his best work that way. And if he _couldn’t_ work alone, if the mission needs precluded it, then he preferred to work with a partner or partners from a very, _very_ small pool of preapproved people.

Clint, it appeared, though he was friendly as anything, had some trust issues.

Not that Bucky could blame him for that, from what little he’d learned of Clint’s life. But to know that Clint trusted _Bucky_ , that _Bucky_ was one of those few people Clint would trust with his life? Hell, Bucky had only been cleared for active duty a few days ago and this would be his first mission since he’d turned himself over to Steve almost a year ago now. Why, then, had Clint put _Bucky_ on that list? And _when?_

So this… this was… _fuck,_ it was staggeringly profound. Which, on top of the revelation only last month, made Bucky’s heart yearn even more for Clint.

And he certainly didn’t want to let Clint down.

Which is how he found himself freezing his goddamn ass off watching Clint’s back from a rooftop while Clint had gone undercover into some hi-tech firm. The coms were Stark make, so the cold wasn’t affecting them quite so much as ones he’d used in the past had.

That meant that he could easily keep track of Clint’s movements throughout the building as he made his way through to the higher levels. The cover was simple, Clint was friendly and so far, there’d been no warning signs he might have been recognized. As far as undercover ops went, that was amazing, but as an Avenger….

Well, Bucky might fume on Clint’s behalf on how little recognition he got _._ Geez, it was kinda like Steve all over again, people underestimating and ignoring the fella. Why was it only Bucky that ever saw their worth?

Still, it was going well, and Bucky really shouldn’t be complaining about anything that might make Clint’s job harder. He should, instead, be glad that backup would (hopefully) prove to be unnecessary. Meaning, they might actually get out of this without a hitch.

That was, of course, when the snow started falling.

Bucky swore under his breath. More snow hadn’t been in the forecast, and the extraction hadn’t been planned with snow in mind. Depending how long Clint needed to get in, get the information they were after, and get out… this could go bad, real fast.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Clint’s voice came over the com very softly.

 _Buttercup???_ “Change in the weather. Don’t know how bad it’ll get. How close to done are you?”

“Not that close,” Clint said. “Posing as a janitor gets me access to pretty much everything, and my less than savory skills and Tony’s tech will give me access to anything else, but I can’t divert too much from the planned route. I’ve still got a few floors to go.”

Fuck.

The waiting was agonizing as Bucky watched the snow fall in thick, fat flakes that started picking up far too fast for his liking. Clint tried to hurry his movements, but there was only so fast he could go.

He refrained from shaking the snow off himself – he didn’t want to become a noticeable blot against the snow when everything else was getting covered – but the chill in the air, combined with the snow sticking to him, was turning him numb.

It took Clint another two hours before he got what they were there for, pocketing the thumb drive discretely, and leaving the building. It wasn’t a fast exit, either, as much as Bucky wished it was. Clint still had to finish his route or suspicion could fall on him for disappearing before he was done. Could even result in the building going into lockdown and that was something they were all hoping to avoid.

When at last Clint stepped outside the building, Bucky almost sagged in relief. But he didn’t, keeping an eye on Clint as he paused, looking up and swearing as snow landed on him. Clint tugged his hat down around his ears, hunched his shoulders and started walking.

Bucky gave it another few minutes to make sure there was no pursuit from the building, then he put away his rifle, shook himself off – and couldn’t stop shivering, _fuck_ – and made his way down to the street. A few blocks over, he joined Clint at their nondescript truck, Clint already gotten in, the truck revving to life as Bucky approached.

Gratefully, Bucky got in, sliding the rifle case and his duffle onto the floor and knocking the snow off his boots before shutting the door. Sadly, the truck hadn’t been on long and there was no noticeable temperature difference. He still shivered, though he tried to hold it back, keep Clint from seeing.

There was no need for Clint to feel guilty because of how cold Bucky was feeling. Clint had needed backup, Nat wasn’t available, and Bucky was happy to help.

The quinjet was supposed to meet them in a field far outside of the city a few hours from now, but before they could do more than leave the city limits the storm had worsened, snow flying so thick they almost couldn’t see the road.

Clint slowed, pulling the truck over and the two of them stared out of the windshield at the snow. Glancing at Bucky, Clint pulled his phone out, poking at it for a couple of minutes.

“Forecast says it’s a freak storm. They think it’s supposed to get worse before it gets better and they’re instituting a state wide travel ban and grounding all flights.”

“The quinjet’s private, though, isn’t it?” Bucky said, rubbing at his arms as surreptitiously as he could. “They can’t ground it, can they?”

“No, but Fury can. They know what the jet can handle and it won’t be lifting off. Fury’s telling us to find shelter and go to ground, wait for it to blow out,” Clint said. “Should be safe enough, even if the targets get wise. Nobody will be out in _this_ weather.”

 ** _I_** _don’t want to be out in this weather,_ Bucky thought miserably, staring at the pure white wall in front of them. He shivered.

“Aww, Buck,” Clint groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry –“

“It’s okay, Clint,” Bucky said, trying to muster up a smile. “There was no way I was letting you go into a possible situation without someone to watch your back. I can handle a little cold. I _am_ the Winter Soldier, after all.”

Clint looked at him sadly, then sighed. “Yeah, but you’re not, not really. But thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Looking back down at his phone, Clint said, “Google maps says there’s a motel just a few hundred feet down the road from here. Risk a little more driving, or you wanna try walking it? Either way, we shouldn’t stay in the car through the storm if we can help it.”

Bucky wasn’t looking forward to hoofing it out in the snow and wind and cold, but the truck wasn’t much warmer and would chill fast when they turned it off.

“Since it’s not far, I say we take the truck as far as we can go,” Bucky said. “If you feel comfortable driving in this. I think the closer we can get to that motel before we have to switch to getting there on foot, the better.”

Nodding, Clint got the truck moving again, moving carefully and slowly down the road. They were actually fairly close to the motel when they had to give up and get out. Slinging their weapons cases and duffle bags over their shoulders, Bucky and Clint got out, locked the truck up tight and started forward, keeping their hands tucked into their jackets and walking close enough to brush their shoulders together.

Bucky’s face burned, though it only made sense to keep close contact. With the snow coming down so thickly, he didn’t want to _think_ what could happen if they got separated and one or the both of them got lost.

Thankfully, the light from the motel sign flared into existence a mere few feet away and thus assured of their destination, and the promise of being warm and dry, their feet sped up.

Not even 15 minutes later saw them unlocking the door to their room and shuffling in, trying to knock most of the snow off in the entryway before venturing further.

As covered as they were, it was a fruitless task. Still, they set their duffle’s and weapons cases by the door, shucking off their coats and boots. Clint immediately headed for the thermostat, cranking it up and Bucky went over to stand beside him, enjoying the blast of hot air, but still shivering with the chill that had lodged into his bones.

His toes were never going to be warm again.

“Hey,” Clint said, jerking his head towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you take a shower, warm yourself up while I make us some hot drinks?”

Bucky nodded in agreement, dipping into his duffle for a change of clothes. He ducked into the bathroom and shut the door. He got the water going, cranking it as hot as it could go and hoping to _god_ it would hold out, letting it run a couple minutes before getting in.

It felt _wonderful_ , and Bucky was hard pressed not to stay in the blissful heat of the shower longer than he did, but he knew that the hot water would give out eventually, and Clint deserved to get some of it too.

He rubbed himself down briskly and dressed in as many layers as he could before leaving the bathroom where Clint pressed a hot mug into his hand.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, before taking a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. He’d expected coffee and was pleasantly surprised to find it was hot chocolate. He quirked an eyebrow at Clint who just shrugged and smiled back over the edge of his own mug.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Coffee’s kinda my thing but, this kinda weather? Gotta go with the classics. Happened to have a few packets in my bag. Forgot I had them, actually.”

Taking another sip, Bucky hummed. “Have to agree. Good call. It’s perfect.”

“Thanks,” Clint beamed. “The trick is in the marshmallows. I had an extra bag of mini’s – hey, they make a good go to snack,” he said flushing a little at Bucky’s look. “Don’t tell Nat! Or Steve, for that matter.”

“I won’t tell,” Bucky drawled.

Stepping towards the bed – the _only_ bed, Bucky noted – Clint settled onto the edge of it, carefully sliding up to sit against the headboard without spilling his mug. “C’mon, man, get comfy.”

Bucky followed suit. “What about you? Don’t you want a shower?”

“Mmm… maybe later. I sat on the heater while waiting for you and the hot water,” he said, nodding at the electric kettle on the desk. “You gonna be okay with sharing the bed?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bucky asked, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

Clint shrugged. “Some guys are weird about it.”

“That’s dumb,” Bucky said, settling the blankets around him as another layer of warmth to ward off the chill.

“Right?” Clint scoffed. “I never understood that.”

They drank together in silence, no need to fill the empty space with chatter. Despite his newly realized feelings for Clint, things between them were pretty much the same as ever – easy and comfortable – and Bucky was just glad that Clint hadn’t realized how Bucky felt, and that his feelings hadn’t ruined the friendship between them.

Clint had been a bulwark of his recovery, someone who understood better than most other people could, someone who had his own shit but didn’t let it stop him from living life fully. It was something Bucky admired about him.

Bucky finished the hot chocolate all too quickly, and he set the mug aside to be dealt with later, sliding down further under the covers with another shiver.

“Still cold?” Clint asked him, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

“Mmmm….” Bucky said. “Always cold.”

Clint set his own mug aside. “Gonna take my ears out, okay?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes growing heavy as warmth slowly seeped into his body. He jolted when Clint curled around him, tugging the blankets up and over as best as they could go. He wanted to ask what was going on, but Clint would never hear him.

Gulping, Bucky settled back into Clint’s welcome warmth and decided he could deal with it in the morning.

Clint was warm and this wasn’t the first time they’d slept together like this, snuggling in tight, though it had never been in the privacy of a room. Relaxing into Clint was… it was a good feeling.

Slowly, Bucky’s shivers receded and he felt warmer than he had in _days_.

Somehow, Clint did more than warm up his outsides – Clint warmed Bucky up from _within,_ from his very _core_ and he dropped to sleep, snug and warm and content.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers go off to have their own little holiday away from the hustle and bustle of the city and really get into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo card #5  
> this is my 3rd square of 5 - "Decorating"

Somewhere along the way, the Avengers had all decided to take off upstate for the holidays, the complex already at least knee deep buried in snow.

Bucky had mixed feelings about the snow, even before all this ‘can’t stay warm’ nonsense which, seriously, what the fuck? If Steve ran hot because of the serum, shouldn’t _Bucky_ also have gotten some sort of cold tolerance boost?

Fuck HYDRA.

As a child, the snow had seemed almost magical. It was beautiful in the way it blanketed everything, soft and peaceful to look at, bringing with it a sense of togetherness, family, presents and treats. And, of course, there were the snowmen, snowball fights and sledding.

But then things got tough, money got tight, and the holidays became leaner, the days became colder and warmth harder to find. Steve was always sick – more than once, worryingly so – and even Becca had given them a scare a time or two as well.

Still, despite all that, Bucky was swept up by the enthusiasm of the others. Especially Clint’s, especially after…

He took a deep breath and watched the archer bounding to and fro about the compound. One would never have believed that until he joined the Avengers, he’d never had a proper holiday, Christmas or otherwise.

Clint’s confession – albeit, it hadn’t been _said_ like a confession – had led Bucky to infer more about his childhood than he’d ever picked up on before. Clint had beamed as they strung twinkling lights around the room and around banisters and poles and anything that stood still long enough (that had been Steve, at one point, and Bucky hadn’t been able to hold back the laugh at Steve’s put upon look and eye roll).

Then Clint had stepped back, looking at the arrangement critically and nodding in approval, offhandedly mentioning,

“Now this is the kind of Christmas I used to _dream_ about.”

“How’s that, Legolas?” Tony had asked, arms full of garland as he used the Iron Man suit to put decorations up high while Thor had manhandled a tree two times as tall as him into it’s place in a stand.

Clint had shrugged. “Well, y’know. Growing up, we didn’t have much of a Christmas. Not all of us were rich Tony. Then there were the foster homes, followed by the circus. Then I parted ways with the circus, went freelance for a bit, eventually wound up in SHIELD and there just wasn’t much point to it, yeah?”

So now Bucky was desperate to do anything he could to give Clint the Christmas he apparently had never had.

And Clint wasn’t the only one. Besides Bucky and Steve – who, at least, had had a few really good Christmases before times made it harder - there was Thor, who hadn’t yet experienced a Midgardian Christmas and Nat who, when pressed, had even less experience with the happy holiday then Clint. Even Tony who, despite all the decorations and presents that money could buy, could only remember loneliness instead of the coming together that should have occurred.

Suddenly, Bucky felt lucky for the childhood he and Steve had had. At least they’d had family.

At least they’d been loved, the genuine feeling of it – even in shaky memories - going far to warm Bucky up, the way being around Clint also did.

Bruce and Sam, it turned out, both had the most normal childhoods of them all and had thus quickly become the Avengers Barometer of what constituted going too far.

Well Bruce did. Not that they always listened to him but, bless his heart, he tried.

Sam, on the other hand, egged them on.

“No, we don’t need 5 sprigs of mistletoe in every doorway,” Bruce complained, taking down the ones over the main entryway. Behind him, Sam handed Thor more who gleefully put them back up.

“Only eggnog for every meal is _not_ going to cut it,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is like the coffee argument all over again. Food, people. You need _real_ food.”

“Why are there bells on every doorknob?” he grumbled, not noticing (yet) that Sam had just handed Clint several sets of sleigh bells which Clint promptly found a way to arrange on every single ceiling fan.

Then turned them all on.

Soon enough, though, the compound was covered in lights and garland with fake sprayed snowflakes on every window. The tree was a monstrosity with even more lights, tinsel instead of garland and baubles of every shape and size that Bucky hadn’t been able to even _imagine._

There was holly and poinsettias and candles strewn about the place in what would have been tasteful arrangements if there hadn’t been so _many_ of them.

There was a real, working fireplace, and there were stockings hung along the mantle for each one of them, their names embroidered carefully along the top and every morning, Bucky could find Clint fingering his own stocking with curious excitement as something new seemed to be added every night. (There was. Bucky was making sure of that.)

Every evening was movie night, with only Christmas movies allowed and accompanied by hot chocolate – which Bucky would always think of fondly, now – and the eggnog (which Bruce glared at) and a bowl of assorted nuts. Clint took great pleasure in using Bucky’s metal arm as a nutcracker, handing him walnut after walnut and chortling over it until there was a pile of shells littering the couch, making Steve shake his head.

Bucky was astounded by the incredible nonchalance Clint had when it came to his arm. He didn’t avoid it, or fear it or make it weird in any way. He treated it like it was normal, like… it was part of Bucky. Which it was.

“Yo, Cap, what kinds of traditions did you and Bucky have back in the 40’s?” Sam asked, suddenly, as they settled in for another night of Christmas movies.

Steve looked thoughtful. “Well, we didn’t have that many. It was more important that we got together, especially when times got a little tougher. But… Christmas morning, of course. Sleigh rides, sometimes. Staying up late for Christmas Mass. A big family dinner the day of and homemade decorations.”

Bucky perked up. “Popcorn and cranberry garland,” he said, grinning at Steve. “Remember how we used to eat it every time our ma’s backs were turned?”

Steve laughed and Clint looked at them both wistfully, but before Bucky could worry about it, the movie started and the lights dimmed. As had become tradition even before the holidays, Clint and Bucky shared the couch and a blanket and, more often than not, Clint fell asleep on Bucky before the night was over.

Bucky was always torn whether to wake Clint up and send him to bed when the movie was done, or leave him there on the couch and let him get the rest he obviously needed. The other options were, of course, to stay with him or carry him to bed, neither of which Bucky felt quite comfortable enough to do, even if he wanted so badly to do it.

Gently shaking Clint awake, he watched the archer stumble off with a yawn before going to bed himself.

He woke early, as he usually did, and went out to the open common room all their bedrooms surrounded and was surprised to find that he had _not_ been the first up. 

Clint was sprawled on the couch, a loose-limbed disaster covered in leftover popcorn and cranberries and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. He looked around to see the clumsy garland strung over the mantle place and hanging in loops from the ceiling held up by, yup, by purple arrows.

God, he must have come straight back out after Bucky and the rest had gone to bed to get this done. If Bucky hadn’t already fallen in love, he was sure this would have done it.

Watching Clint carefully, he edged towards the fireplace and dropped the small gift he’d been hiding behind his back into Clint’s stocking. Of course, he wasn’t the _only_ one filling the stockings, and Clint’s wasn’t the only one he’d put something in either – this team had become family to him - but Clint’s stocking was nearing full now, and Bucky was fairly sure the majority of the trinkets were from him.

Once that was safely deposited with Clint none the wiser, Bucky headed for the kitchen and started the fancy coffee machine Tony had installed and pulled out eggs, bread, butter and bacon.

Maybe later, he mused, he’d convince Clint to bake some cookies with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky used to _love_ dancing, but going out to a crowded, modern club with no anonymity was not his idea of a good time. Trust Clint to find a way around that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo Card #5 - Candlelight  
> Winterhawk bingo square - dancing
> 
> p.s. it is very hard to write dancing when you know nothing about it   
> also, i watched lindy hop videos on youtube and listened to the music while i wrote this and it WORKED as i raced against a dying laptop to write it. i'm really happy with it....

They were the Avengers, of course, so the bad guys just couldn’t take the holidays off. This meant their Christmas retreat was interrupted before they’d been able to open the gifts. But at least it wasn’t Christmas day itself – that was two days away, so they still had time.

They trudged back to the tower, covered in gunk that Bucky felt like it was gonna take forever to scrub off. Steve declared it a night of rest before heading back Upstate. Tony was too hyper for that though.

“Let’s go out to a club! C’mon! Music, dancing, all sorts of fun to be had.”

“I don’t know, Tony,” Steve said slowly. “We’re kind of high profile. You think there’s anywhere we could go without drawing attention to ourselves?”

“It’s New York,” Tony said. “Who’s going to care? Besides, I know a place that’s totally discrete.”

Bucky snorted. Discrete and Tony were not words he’d ever put in the same sentence.

Somehow, though, Tony managed to convince not only Steve, but Thor, Sam, Bruce, Nat and Clint that this was a great idea. Bucky’s stomach sank. It wasn’t that he didn’t like dancing but… it wasn’t the same. Discrete or not, there would be people. People he didn’t know. The dancing would be different, too.

Begging off, Bucky retreated to his rooms and decided to take a long, soaking hot bath. He was strangely exhausted, and maybe a little let down that the team hadn’t been able to get a proper holiday after all. They deserved it, he figured. And tried not to think how they was pretty much _Clint_.

Once he was toweled off and dressed as warmly as possible – he was feeling the cold a little extra today, for some reason - he picked up a discarded book and headed for the kitchen to get something hot to drink. Maybe cider. Oddly, he didn’t want either coffee or hot chocolate, not without Clint around.

He wasn’t going to examine that too closely either. He already knew how he felt, he didn’t need to dwell on it. That way did nobody any good.

When he arrived in the common area, however, it was not only empty – as he’d expected – but filled with candlelight.

He froze, blinking around the room. _What the fuck?_

His eyes, better able to see in such low lighting then most of the other Avengers, pinged on something in one corner of the room and Bucky realized he wasn’t quite as alone as he thought.

“Clint?”

“Yo,” Clint said with a grin. Candlelight reflected off his face, off that golden hair with surprising glowing softness and Bucky swallowed, hard.

“Um, hi…” Bucky said, a warmth creeping up his face. Luckily, Clint wouldn’t likely to be able to see it in this lighting. “I thought you were going out?”

Clint shrugged, walking over to meet Bucky. “I was, but, I didn’t like the thought of leaving you here alone.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, the cold seeping back into his bones. “That’s okay, Clint. You didn’t have to feel sorry about the fact that I’m a bit of a shut in these days.”

“Nah, that’s not why,” Clint said, coming to a stop right before Bucky. Bucky blinked up. He kept forgetting Clint was actually taller than him, cause usually, he held himself smaller, or slouched in his seats. “It made me sad cause I’d been hoping to ask you to show me a few dances.”

“What?” Bucky’s brain stuttered to a stop.

“Yeah. Steve told me how much you used to love dancing and I thought it was a shame that you didn’t get to do that anymore and uh,” Clint rubbed the back of his head, giving Bucky a sheepish little grin. “I’m actually not that bad at learning dances, s’long as they got steps to learn. Figured you’d have plenty to teach me, and it could be fun. Honestly, that was really the only reason I said yes to going out when Tony suggested it. I was, uh, y’kow, kinda looking forward to it.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathed out.

Clint blinked down at him through lowered lashes and a self-conscious little smile that made Bucky’s heart skip another beat. “So, uh, you wanna? Show me a few dances? I bet JARVIS can load up the right music…”

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky said. He could barely think, but Clint was here, with him, wanted to dance, _with him._ Even if this was one sided, Bucky could pretend for a moment or two. And as clumsy as Clint could be, he was also strangely graceful when he _wanted_ to be and Bucky was suddenly _dying_ to see him dancing.

Clint’s face lit up. “Awesome. Hey, J – can you find us some period music for… “

“Think I wanna see you do the Lindy Hop. Should be right up your alley,” Bucky said. “Something with horns, JARVIS.”

Music filled the room, filled Bucky with nostalgia and he reached out and took Clint’s hand in his. It made no sense to dance in candlelight – Clint probably couldn’t see as much as he needed to, but there was an empty space big enough for them to use in the room and he dropped his book to the counter and led Clint to the center of that space.

“It’s a pretty energetic dance, spins and flips – here, just follow my lead.”

Clint hadn’t been lying, he picked it up fast, only spinning into Bucky a couple of times when Bucky pulled him in. Soon enough, Both Bucky and Clint were sweating and laughing and Bucky had shucked off his hoody in favor of guiding Clint around the room. His face was flushed and his face hurt with how wide his smile had gotten.

“God, you’re a natural, Clint,” Bucky said. “You’d never know you didn’t grow up with this.”

Clint might have blushed, but it was hard to tell with how red his face was from the exertion. “What can I say, I got a good teacher.”

Bucky grinned. “Well, in that case, you ready to step it up a notch?”

Raising an eyebrow, Clint said, “Oh Whatchya got in mind?”

Bucky proceeded to show him _exactly_ what he had in mind. Some of the steps were a little harder with a dance partner taller than him, but he was fairly strong and Clint – once he figured out what Bucky wanted – worked with him.

All told, they’d been dancing for over two hours before Clint breathlessly slumped against Bucky with a laugh. “Uncle, uncle!” he said, waving a hand at his face. “C’mon, we better hydrate if we’re gonna keep going.”

Laughing, Bucky led the way to the kitchen portion of the room, blindly grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge and popping off the tops, passing one to Clint. “Here ya go, doll,” he drawled.

They clinked their bottle together and grinned. Bucky leaned back on the counter top, watching at Clint took a swallow from his bottle. The candles were significantly lower than early but burned just as brightly and reflected off the gathered sweat dampening Clint’s face and hair. Bucky’s fingers itched to swipe some of it away but he shook himself and took his own sip of his beer.

“Y’know, when you’re dancing, you get more Brooklyn,” Clint said, coming to lean up against the counter beside Bucky, elbow to elbow.

“Do I?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Yeah, kinda like it, actually,” Clint said, looking down and away, but Bucky could swear he’d seen a flicker of Clint’s eyes darting to him and away again, candlelight glinting off Clint’s light eyes. Bucky couldn’t seem to stop smiling, the smile threatening to burst out into an all out grin. They drank their beers, trading glances Bucky was almost afraid to read.

When they finally finished, they set the beers on the counter almost simultaneously. Clint was no longer out of breath as he grabbed Bucky’s hand. “C’mon, I think I got my second wind. Again?”

“Sure thing, doll,” Bucky said, letting Clint pull him out into the room. This time, he let Clint take the lead. They started off light, but before he knew it, Clint was swinging him about almost effortlessly, despite the bulk that Bucky packed in his shorter frame. It was strange but exhilarating to be the one flipped over a set of broad shoulders or slung around a hip, but Clint did it so naturally that Bucky didn’t even skip a step.

By the time the elevator opened to let out the rest of the Avengers – in various states of drunkenness – Clint and Bucky were trading out who was in the lead as they went. It was flawless, as if they could read each other’s minds, like they’d been dancing like this, together, all their lives.

Bucky definitely never wanted this to end.

Breathing hard, they came to a stop amidst a round of loud, enthusiastic applause. Bucky glanced around at them in surprise as lights came up around the room, gentle though, not too bright. Steve looked so happy he was gonna cry. Nat just smiled at them. Bruce, Sam and Tony looked impressed and Thor, curious.

“You guys look like you had fun,” Nat said. “I’m almost jealous I didn’t stick around.”

“The _best,”_ Clint crowed, slinging an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky was startled into looking at him and couldn’t stop staring at the flushed, happy expression on Clint’s face. He wasn’t lying, that was certain and Bucky felt the same and for once, Bucky felt too, too hot.

He couldn’t keep the soft smile off his face as Clint bid everyone goodnight and departed. One by one, so did the rest of the Avengers, till only Steve and Bucky were left. Bucky picked up his hoody, but he didn’t feel cold at all. He used it, instead, to wipe away the sweat as he and Steve walked towards the elevator.

“I’m glad for you, Buck,” Steve said.

“There ain’t nothin’ goin’ on, punk,” Bucky protested, despite how much he wanted there to be.

“Hmm… maybe,” Steve said, a knowing smile crossing his face, but he didn’t push. Bucky was grateful for that. He didn’t want the magic of tonight to be overshadowed by any sort of argument.

He took another long, soaking bath, treating muscles that hadn’t been used in a while, and when he fell asleep, he dreamed of Clint and dancing and candlelight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day is filled with more than Bucky could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filling the last of the Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo Card #5 - square (hexagon) Clint Barton

Bucky wasn’t dumb. He knew something was up. With Clint, specifically. Clint was always there for him, a comforting presence and a warming laughter. Always had a warm drink or blanket or both in hand when Bucky was feeling too cold to function. Then there was the popcorn and cranberry garland, done up in secret, Clint’s smile whenever he caught Bucky staring at them had been soft.

Then there was the dancing which, yeah, there’d been candlelight. There’d been no reason Bucky could think of, in any way, for Clint to have used candles. He could have simply asked JARVIS to mute the lights if he was going for mood lighting – which, um. Mood lighting?

Was Clint Barton _courting_ Bucky?

Oh god, he wished it were true.

Either way, he needed to do something special for Clint, but as with Christmas gifts, he was finding the doing rather more difficult than he remembered. What could he get Clint that would _mean_ something?

Sure, he was a coffee addict, but gift cards to his favorite coffee places just seemed so… impersonal. Not that Bucky wouldn’t get them. He sure as hell would because Clint could drink his weight in coffee at any given time. But he wanted to do something _more._

In the end, Bucky had made Clint several sets of knitted hats, scarves and fingerless mittens in 2 distinct color schemes – black with purple chevrons and edging, and white with 2 color purple targets and edging. And a giant blanket that combined both. He’d almost not finished that one in time. The stocking had had the gift cards, of course. And to give it some weight, he’d also given Clint a knife or two – who didn’t need knives? You could always use a good knife.

That was Christmas morning though, and didn’t really help with the ‘do something special for Clint’ problem.

Still, one thing at a time.

Christmas morning came first. They’d all gotten back into the compound the night before, proceeded to have a snowball fight until they’d fallen down laughing, the pristine white snow out front now looking rather less clean and fairy- like from all the roughhousing.

Steve fought dirty, even though he no longer _needed_ to, the punk. But Bucky had been wise to his ways and of course almost all the rest of the Avengers – Clint, Nat and Sam in particular – were no strangers to fighting just as dirty when the occasion called for it.

“Trust me, Buck, the occasion calls for it,” Clint said, just before he tripped Steve by throwing himself at Steve’s feet and rolling. Nat and Sam were on him in an instant, shoving snow down the back of his jacket while Steve howled – torn between indignation and laughter.

It was enough to almost chase away the chill of being outside, Bucky grinning so hard it hurt.

Eventually, they’d all trooped in, pink cheeked and bright eyed, recieving hot chocolates and cookies all around, courtesy of the one Avenger who hadn’t joined in the fray – Bruce.

Bucky found himself too keyed up to sleep, the room too cold, and he finally sighed, grabbed a book and padded out into the common area. He made himself another cup of hot chocolate - because, what the hell, he was already wide awake – then stoked the fireplace till it was going strong again. He settled in on the couch cross-legged and dragged the blanket he and Clint had been using – it smelled like Clint and a little something settled inside him – around his legs.

He was deep in his book when a weight settled against him and he blinked in bemusement at Clint slumping over, practically draping himself across Bucky’s lap.

“Hey,” he said quietly, heart thumping loud enough to beat the band. “Can’t sleep either?”

Clint didn’t react to the words, only curling in closer, face nuzzling into the blanket, into Bucky. His eyes were closed and when Bucky cautiously threaded his fingers into Clint’s hair, he noted the hearing aids were absent. Clint leaned into the touch with a little hum and Bucky chuckled.

He shifted a bit to grab a second blanket and drape it over Clint, Clint murmuring a grumbling protest until Bucky stopped moving. One of Clint’s arms came up, his hand gripping Bucky’s ankle before he sighed and seemed to deflate into Bucky and the couch.

It took Bucky a long time to look away from Clint and back to his book, but his fingers never stopped carding through Clint’s hair or scratching his scalp.

Around 6, the rest of the compound started waking up. Steve was the first to come out of his bedroom, eyes lighting on Bucky and Clint instantly, his expression going soft.

Bucky blushed and flipped him off.

He didn’t stop running his fingers through Clint’s hair though.

By 7, all the rest of the team had come out in various stages of yawning, most of them still in their pajamas. Bruce had commandeered whoever was the most awake to start an Olympic spread of food – loads of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, corned beef hash – while Tony took charge of the coffee pot.

Nat came over to the couch, settling on the corner and tucking her bare toes under the blanket. Within seconds, Clint had squealed and jerked upright, glowering at her.

“Dammit, Nat, your toes are _freezing_. Did you take a walk in the snow? Barefoot?”

She grinned at him, but didn’t say a word, only nodding her head behind Clint. Clint – and Bucky – turned in time to see Tony, carrying over a tray of mugs. He stopped before the couch. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Thank you, Tony,” Bucky said before glancing down at the mugs. He blinked, carefully reaching out for the black mug with a handle that looked surprisingly like his vibranium arm. The black, upon closer examination, looked a lot like the buckles on his uniform and one side had the red star. He looked over to watch as Clint grabbed a simpler black mug with a purple chevron on one side and an arrow for a handle. Looking past Clint, he saw Nat already had her own, personalized mug in hand and, casting his glance wider, so did everyone else.

“They’re one of a kind, special order, so try not to break them,” Tony said, taking the empty tray away.

Clint was smiling dopily at his mug and it made Bucky’s stomach swoop. Hopefully he’ll be just as happy with his gifts from Bucky.

Soon enough, breakfast was had and stockings were passed out, everyone content to occupy themselves with the smaller trinkets while eating – a good chunk of them gift cards and little gag gifts - but then it was time for the main event.

With their mugs topped off and Clint’s hearing aids acquired, Steve played Santa by passing out the gifts. Tony, of course, was way too extravagant, using his money like water, but it was no less appreciated. Tony showed he cared by spoiling others.

Bucky received assorted books and knives from most of the others. Natasha, surprisingly, had made scrapbooks for everyone. Steve had made sketches. Bucky had made hats for everyone in addition to what he’d made for Clint. Thor had brought gifts from Asgard – weapons and clothes and works of art that would have made a museum weep. Bruce had made cookies and had painstakingly found books he thought everyone would like, getting each one inscribed and Sam… Sam was still a troll.

But Bucky was laughing at the oddball and often off-color shit Sam had found for each of them. Each weird gift accompanied by a more sedate, more thoughtful, 500 piece puzzle.

“They’re therapeutic,” he said. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

After the wrapping paper had been discarded and Tony and Bruce were lost in a set of toy trains that looked like it was big enough to loop the entire room, Bucky found himself surreptitiously glancing over at Clint who – upon opening his gift from Bucky – had promptly tried to wear all of it at the same time.

It was utterly ridiculous. The blanket was draped around his shoulders like a cape, two hats on his head, two scarves around his neck and since he couldn’t wear both mittens at once, had one from each pair on his hands.

He was beaming, too, so Bucky was counting it as a win.

He also snapped a photo of Clint, all decked out like that, that grin so wide and carefree it made Bucky ache to hold him.

The smell of food cooking – Tony grumbling about how he _could_ have gotten it catered, only to be countered by pretty much everyone else about how homecooked was part of the charm – filled the compound as they took turns helping with the meal or playing board games. Clint had already pulled out his puzzle and spread it over the coffee table, cajoling Bucky and Nat to help. He went haphazardly, picking pieces at random to try them together while Bucky and Nat both sorted - she by color, him by searching for the edge pieces.

And the whole day, Bucky felt _warm_. Happy. Content.

And every time Clint Barton smiled at him, said his name, bumped into him, leaned on him or so much as _looked_ at Bucky, Bucky felt a burst of heat that threatened to explode out of his chest.

Dinner was an organic affair, no one ever outright saying it was ready, but somehow the table was set, dishes were brought out and people sitting down in their places before Bucky was really aware that it was happening, so caught up in Clint and the way they revolved around each other as he was.

Chatter ensued, enthusiastic compliments for this or that, Steve scolding Tony not to talk with his mouth full while Thor waved a turkey leg around as counterpoint in a story. Sam insisted the canned cranberry sauce was a secret family recipe and _almost_ had Thor believing it, till Bruce pointed out the ridges. Clint made a mountain out of his mashed potatoes, pouring an entire pool of dark gravy with mushrooms into the hole he’d made at the top before smashing it down gleefully. Nat tried a little bit of everything but particularly seemed to enjoy the odd onion dish.

There was too much food - even for two super soldiers, a god and Clint Barton (Bucky could never figure out _how_ the man could pack away so much food) – and eventually the eating winded down, people started to drift away from the table. By some silent unanimous consent, some of the food was left out to be picked at over throughout the rest of the night while the rest was put away in Tony’s enormous fridge.

Thor and Tony offered drinks, but Bucky declined, relaxing back into the softness of the couch and just drifted, enjoying the feel of having a _family_ again.

The couch dipped and Clint slid into it bonelessly, yawning. He dropped his head on the back of it and lolled about to face Bucky with a tired smile, eyes drooping.

“Y’know, I think this is my best Christmas ever. Like, beats out all the others _combined_ ,” Clint said.

“Gotta agree with you there, doll,” Bucky drawled. Warm pleasure suffused him when he realized that his embracing of the holiday had contributed to Clint having a good one. To _all_ of them having a good one, but especially Clint.

Clint grinned at him, then blinked and sat up straight, patting himself down. “Oh, oh, I forgot. I know I already gave you something but I had… what’d I do with it…” he trailed off, muttering to himself before smacking himself in the head. “Duh, it’s still in my room. Stay here! I’ll be right back!”

Tumbling off the couch, he careened into the coffee table, knocking it to the side a few inches, a waterfall of puzzle pieces hitting the floor. Bucky stared after him with a bemused smile.

“You’re so gone on him,” Steve said behind him. He jerked forward and turned to find Steve leaning on the back of the couch with a happy smile. “I’m happy for ya, Buck. And him too.”

Bucky blushed and shoved at Steve’s arms. “Go away, you big, dumb, sap.”

Steve laughed as he backed up from the couch. “Sure, Buck. But just so y’know? Me leaving when you tell me doesn’t make it any less true.”

He sauntered away, back to the little group gathering around a pack of cards – oh, ho, ho, Bucky thought with a smirk – and Bucky tried to glare after him, but he really wasn’t feeling it, too happy to hold the glare for long.

Turning away so Steve wouldn’t see the glare faltering and believe he was forgiven, Bucky caught Clint skidding back into the room. He didn’t look like he had anything on him and he was looking really nervous as he approached Bucky once more.

“So uh, hey,” he said, rubbing at the back of his head in that endearing way of his. “So, this might be a little dumb, but, this is, this is something special to me, and I wanted you to have it.”

He opened his fist and a chain slipped out to tangle around his fingers, leaving something in the palm of his hand. It was an arrowhead on a silver chain - not they type of charm you’d get for jewelry, either, this was the real deal. The point was dull, so the person wearing it wouldn’t likely hurt themselves unless they were really trying to, and it was obviously old, though well cared for.

Bucky must have stared at it a little too long because Clint started talking again, the nervousness creeping into his voice.

“So um, it’s my first bullseye. Or, well, it’s the arrow I made my first bullseye with,” he said. “And uh, archery’s kinda important to me, even without the whole,” he waved his free hand around, “without the superhero gig. You uh, you mighta guessed? And I just, I wanted to… to share it with you?”

Clint’s words started to get choppy, his fingers started closing on the necklace. “Oh god, no, I mean, never mind. This is weird. I’m weird. I should just… You don’t have to –“

His arm drew back and Bucky’s shot out, his hand closing gently around Clint’s and stopping him from retreating to far. Clint’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Bucky with wide eyes. “No, no it isn’t weird. I’m honored you’d want to share that with me.”

“Yeah?” Clint breathed out, the hint of a smile twitching along his lips. Bucky wanted to kiss that smile, those lips, wanted to make Clint’s eyes light up.

Maybe he could?

He gave Clint’s hand a light tug, and almost shivered when he watched Clint’s body lean forward with it. Bucky licked his lips and his breath stuttered.

“Clint… can I…?” Bucky’s throat closed up around the words. What if he was wrong?

“Yeah,” Clint said, that grin spreading wide over his face again, a sparkle sliding into his eyes and he was leaning closer. “Yeah, you can.”

Desperately hoping this meant they were on the same wavelength, Bucky darted the scant distance between them and their lips connected. It was brief, both of them pulling back, catching the other’s eye, then they surged forward again, that one kiss turning into several more. A hand touched his face, slid up his jaw and drew him in and he moaned happily at the press of Clint’s lips to his own.

Finally, he pulled away and they stared at each other. Bucky felt stupidly giddy, then he looked down at their joined hands. Bucky used both hands to ease Clint’s open once more, revealing the arrowhead necklace.

Clint watched with wide eyes as Bucky snagged it carefully and slipped it over his head, settling it against his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” Clint whispered.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” Bucky whispered back.

“Finally!” Tony shouted across the room. “I thought we were going to have to tape mistletoe on your foreheads!”

Laughter filled the room, but Bucky and Clint ignored them in favor of snuggling close and trading kisses. If Bucky had thought that Christmas had been as good as it was going to get, he’d been so wrong, cause it had gotten so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is probably almost twice the lenght of most of the others but y'know, sometimes you go where the story takes you.
> 
> hope you enjoyed the fluff!


End file.
